Static covers the screen as a Play ► symbol appears in the bottom right-hand corner.

In the middle of The Slaughterhouse, Nygma sits on a throne made of marble inside the ring. There’s no crown upon his head, but naturally, a smile adorns his face.

The Laughing King’s reign is upon us.

“Last week, I became royalty,” he says loudly into a microphone in his hand. “I became your King.”

As the camera pans out, it reveals a mass of men stood surrounding the ring at ringside. They’re all dressed like Nygma, some of whom looking nearly identical to the King himself.

The Laughing Stock.

There must be nearly fifty.

He shakes his head.

“But one thing appears to me missing, big brother,” Nygma continues. “My darling little crown.”

The King stands up off of his throne and walks to the ropes, staring at the entrance ramp.

Suddenly, “Carry On My Wayward Son” by Kansas abruptly blares into the arena and out atop the entrance ramp struts Jessie Williams.

He’s immediately met by The Laughing Stock as multiple men rush him.


Williams takes the first down.



“Stop!” Nygma yells, halting his stock with the mere utterance of direction. “Let him pass.”

The Prince adjusts himself and walks past the broken bodies of stirring laughing stock to walk past the rest and enter the ring.

“I like you,” The King chuckles. “But you don’t have my crown hiding in those big britches of yours, do ya?”

Williams shakes his head.

“Did you come to bend the knee?” He asks quickly after.

Again, Williams shakes his head.

“Hm,” King Nygma sighs. “That’s a little disappointing.”

“I came out here because at Ring King, I had the opportunity to go from Prince to King and I didn’t take my shot,” Jessie says with a microphone now in his hand. “Because of me, you now reign over this Kingdom.”

“Oh, I see,” The Laughing Man interrupts with a laughing growl.

“I came out here to tell you that you’re not my King,” he bravely replies. “And I won’t ever bend the knee to you.”

Nygma begins carefully pacing around Williams in the ring, stepping to and fro before hopping back the other way.

He seems giddy, if not utterly insane.

“You’d like an official audience with the King, is that it?”

Jessie’s eyes look back and forth, unsure of his next move.

“You want to go one on one with the laughing one?” Nygma continues. “You want to take a seat on my throne, bub? Do you wanna wear my crown? Try it on? Touch it?”

Williams backs away very carefully.

Nygma closes in very, very quickly. He’s now nose to nose with the kid.

The lights begin to flash like a paparazzi’s camera as Deep Purple’s “Stormbringer” hits the Slaughterhouse. Smoke fills the entrance tube as the lyrics kick in.

Luke Storm soon appears with a microphone in one hand the crown underneath the arm of the other.

“Leave the kid alone,” Storm says walking towards the ring. Nygma backs off, nodding at The Laughing Stock. They let Luke enter via the ring steps, coming to settle in front of him.

“BROTHER!” Nygma shouts emphatically. “If it isn’t my traitorous, devious, coward of a brother! You’re just in time. I was about to feast on this little piggie.”

“Get out of here, Jessie,” Luke says nodding towards the ropes.

Williams tries to walk that way, but The Laughing Stock block his path.

“Oh no, not so fast Prince,” Nygma says with a grin. “Tonight, you’ll get a shot at my crown in a Game of Thrones Match. You wanted an audience with The King and now you’ve got one, bucko.”

With another nod, The Stock let him exit.

“As for you, my darling brother, did you simply forget?” He quizzes. “Did mommy tell you to leave me alone, is that it? Cause you ruined my big moment, buddy.”

Luke grimaces.

“Perhaps you’re a little scared?” Nygma says with a chuckle. “Maybe you just couldn’t bear the idea that your little brother became King.”

“That’s not it,” Storm admits. “I should’ve given you the crown and I was going to. I was watching the match on the monitor backstage and I had every intention of putting this crown on your head.”

The Laughing Man’s eyebrows raise.

“But look, that’s besides the point; the point is that you’re now King and with it comes an opportunity at this,” Storm says, pushing his jacket aside to show off the OSW Championship around his waist. “So, if you want to finish this once and for all, little brother, pick your shot.”

Nygma begins pacing again.

“Besides the point, you say?” He asks quizzically. “Something is going on, isn’t it?”

Storm doesn’t react.

He stands entirely still.

“What little secret are you hiding from me, big brother? Lying to the King is treason, don’t you know?”

Luke tosses the crown onto the throne and backs off.

“I’m not getting into this,” he growls in response.

Suddenly, the lights go off.

Absolute darkness.

When they come back on, Rain is stood in between both Nygma and Luke Storm.

The Monster points ominously at Luke Storm’s Championship.

The Laughing King laughs audibly, almost hysterically, grabbing his belly as he flops back into the corner.

“Oh dear,” he says between laughing breaths. “Sic’ him, my albino big boy.”

The Monster reaches out and grabs Luke Storm by the throat, lifting him high into the air.




Nygma is now sat in the corner laughing hysterically.

Rain reaches down and unstraps the OSW Championship, snatching it from the waste of The Stormbringer.

The Monster turns to look at The Laughing Man, somewhat perturbed that Nygma hasn’t moved an inch to help, but instead laughs manically.

He steps backwards, surveying the carnage as Nygma gets back to his feet and walks over to his brother, placing a boot on his chest.

“I don’t know what you’re hiding,” he says. “But say hello to Mark Gouldern for me, won’t ya?”

Rain backs away and slowly exits the ring, watching as Nygma grabs his crown, places it on his head and takes a seat on his throne.

“All hail King Nygma!”

The Laughing Stock loudly shout.

“All hail King Nygma!”



Recorded Earlier

Reaper sits, confined to an ornate chair, his electric blue wrist guards holding him in place. Before him the blue portal opens once more and The Judge materialises in his midst, axe in hand. Reaper looks on at his foe with distain, but showing no fear.

“I’m here willingly, do you really need the restraints?”

The Judge ponders for a moment, toying with the idea of releasing him, but he does not.

“What is it you humans say… Better to be safe than sorry?”

Reaper struggles against the wrist guards but they do not budge. Judge ignores him and continues.

“You are called to account in your judgement. There are findings that exist before you that need answers and you appear to be the only one that can provide those answers. I have been waiting, biding my time to have this conversation with you.”

Reaper smirks.

“Yeah, I’ve been just fucking dying to have a chat with you two.”

Judge ignores him, or does not pick up on the sarcasm.

“This day, your judgement begins. But I do not expect to gather all of the answers I seek right now. This much is clear to me. Your family was killed in place of you, an error in balance that they took your place.”

Reaper opens his mouth to object, but is silenced by the Judge’s axe thumping the floor.

“The Observatory cannot reach you, and thusly you have been unable to form an account on. But as to what makes you so special, unique in that respect, I have yet to gather answers.”

Again, Reaper opens his mouth and again the axe thumps the floor. The Judge continues to speak.

“Since my investigation began your mind has been manipulated, you have been captured and attempted to be killed and you have avoided my presence. Now that we have finally crossed paths again, I will not wait to receive the answers I seek. I will not risk losing them if you change your mind.”

He pauses, looking intently at Reaper.

“But there is… Something. Something in your eyes that is like a missing piece of the puzzle. On this, I must deliberate alone.”

Judge takes Reaper by the hands, releasing his wrist guards. At once, Reaper’s hands turn jet black. Shocked, he pulls his hands away and inspects them. Judge doesn’t seem shocked, instead, he merely explains.

“The black mark. Now that you are marked, I will be able to recall you to my presence any time I need to. When my deliberations are complete, your judgement will continue. Until then, I will be watching carefully. I will be judging. I will get to the bottom of you.”

Reaper still looks shocked.

“But my hands, they’re black. How…?”

Judge shakes his head.

“The mark is only visible between you and I. Nobody else can see it. And it will not affect you in any other way physically. It merely opens a connection between us that will allow me to deliberate more effectively. And it gives you no ability to run. For there is nowhere you can go that I will not be able to find you now.”

Judge waves his axe in the air and a blue portal opens above Reaper. Before Reaper can so much as speak, the portal had swallowed him up and escorted him away from the Judge’s presence. Leaving The Judge to his deliberations.



We have a huge debut contest here as Vex begins her journey in OSW but it could be a short one as she finds herself against the Reaper himself

The bell sounds as Vex rushes forward, SHOTGUN BLAST! Vex sprinted right into that huge Superman Punch and she looks to allready be knocked out cold, Reaper rolling down for the cover. ONE…TWO…THREE!!!

Vex’s debut match is ruined here as Reaper beats her with a single blow in what could be the shortest match in OSW history


Tank Kersh.

He sits on the floor, legs spread, stretching to touch his toes as part of his warm up for Legacy’s match later in the night.

When suddenly…

“I need to speak with you, son.”

Brent Kersh.

Tank looks up to see his father, shakes his head.

“What do you want, old man?”

“You know, I came back here to OSW because I can’t sit idly by and watch your entire life get eaten up by a world you don’t belong in.”

Tank bites his bottom lip, chuckles. With an impressive quickness he’s up to his feet, looking Brent straight in his eyes.

“Do you even hear yourself? Because I could say the exact same thing to you.”

Brent sighs. “You need to go back to your own timeline.”

Tank shakes his head. “You still don’t get it do you, old man? Jay Jeckel defeated you. Sanctus defeated you. This is my fucking timeline. This is Legacy’s fucking timeline. We have dominated this world from the moment we’ve stepped foot in it. Whereas you?”

Tank looks Brent up and down.

“This world has dominated you from the moment you stepped foot in it. Look at you. You gave up everything for OSW, and all it did was chew you up, swallow you, and shit you back out. But you’re like a turd that won’t flush.”

Brent starts to interject, but Tank beats him to the punch.

“I’m not going anywhere. The only Kersh who needs to leave OSW is you.”

Tank angrily bumps shoulders with Brent as he walks away.

Brent rubs his face, frustrated beyond words.



Fresh of retaining his tag team championship, the Blood Red Shark looks for his next victim but he may have bit more then he can chew with the monsterous newcomer Punchout

The bell rings as the Shark rushes forward right into a massive left hook, not quite the $10,000 knockout but damn near close as the Shark collapses to the canvas, Punchout kneeling down upon him for the cover. ONE…TWO…Shark just kicks out! The Shark stumbles to his feet, still punchdrunk from that huge left hook as Punchout winds up for another big left, BOLO PUNCH….Shark ducks under, nailing Punchout with a hard kick to the knee that stumbles the big man back.

The Shark bounces off the ropes, ducking under a wild right, BLOODY MARY! The Shining Wizard hits flush but Punchout is too damn strong as it just dazes him. Blood Red Shark is undeterred as he bounces off the ropes, BLOODY MARY TO THE BACK OF THE HEAD! Even with Punchout’s heavy frame that still packed a punch as the bigger man drops down to one knee.

The Shark leaps up, BLOOD CHANGE! BRS didn’t hammerlock the arm but the thunderous leaping DDT spikes Punchout into the mat as the mountain of a man is out on the mat but the Shark doesn’t cover, instead climbing up to the top rope, BLOODY RAIN! The Diving Splash caps off a huge flurry of offense as he covers the turtled Punchout for the ONE…TWO…THREE!!!

The Blood Red Shark picks up a huge victory here tonight, pulling out all the stops to drop the immovable object Mr KO


Last week, when Banzan read the poem, one person and one person alone came to mind.

But at this precise moment, it appears her own mind is completely lost.

Sweet Alice.

She’s trashing her own locker room area, digging everywhere, turning things over, looking under, over, and everywhere in between.

“I simply cannot find it,” Sweet Alice mutters. “Where is it!?!”

She kicks a trash can. It tips over. She begins rummaging through it like a starving homeless person.

Banzan emerges from the opposite corner.

“Alice,” he says.

Startled, Alice jumps at the sound of her name before turning to face Banzan. She sighs.

“Oh, good. Perhaps you can help me find it.”

“Find what?” Banzan replies.

“I’ve looked everywhere for it.”

“For what?” Banzan asks again, more authoritatively.

“My mind. You see, it got very hot, like a kettle of tea over an open fire, and simply ran away from me. It is hiding from me, playing games you see. I simply must locate it.”

“Alice,” Banzan interjects. “Last week, the poem I found… It all leads me to you.”

Sweet Alice sighs again, her eyes well with tears.

“Banzan, how in your world or my own can I even begin to answer an interrogation with my mind completely lost?”

Banzan thinks for a moment.

“Fine, I’ll help you. So long as you agree to meet me halfway.”

“Halfway to where?” Sweet Alice asks.

“The truth,” replies Banzan.



Tonight marks a brutal brawl between a Bishop and a Bastard, here on Octane!

Bishop and Jac start trading blows from the jump, neither man letting up until the bigger man Bishop sends Jac reeling with a right hand to the jaw, sending him into the corner. Bishop takes a step back, gearing up before he charges at Jac…who dodges at the last second!

Bishop crashes against the turnbuckle with a thud, giving Bastard an opportunity that he quickly takes advantage of as he turns Bishop around and unleashes a flurry of offense. Lefts and rights, a couple kicks for good measure, and he rounds things out with a nasty headbutt to the face!

Bishop takes a tumble, much to the amusement of Jac who goes to work with some hard stomps to the midsection before picking Bishop back up, dropping a few more punches before rearing back for the MUMBLES SMILE…BISHOP BLOCKS IT, LOCKING IN A KIMURA LOCK! LAST GASP IS CINCHED IN!

Jac is struggling to get out of the hold, but is eventually able to reach over and clock Bishop with a punch! Bishop steps back, stunned from the strike as Bastard favors his arm…TURNING AROUND INTO A LAST RITES BY BISHOP! BISHOP’S GOT HIM WITH THE COVER: ONE! TWO! THREE!

Jac Bastard made a big impression in his OSW debut tonight, but Bishop is the one standing tall!


Walking backstage, Jessie Williams has a lot on his mind. He’s stepped up to the new Ring King, and has a match with him later on. Plus, he knows his father is being held prisoner in Lucid Falls. So it should come as no surprise that his expression falls as he opens the door to his locker room and sees a familiar face.

Sandy Rogers.

Rogers stands to his feet, watching cautiously as Williams bridges the gap between them quickly.

“I got your message, Jessie.” Rogers begins. “What did you need from me?”

Jessie sent Sandy a message?

Williams regards Rogers with what looks like pity.

“I know that you won’t tell me what I want to know.” Jessie says with a sigh. “I don’t think you know what I want to know. But I know you can bring me back to Lucid Falls.”

Rogers shakes his head.

“I would love to bring you back, but the last time you were there, that oafish friend of yours caused quite a disturbance. And poor Mrs. Ducksworth seemed very shaken up…”

Jessie raises his hand to cut him off.

“Just me, this time.” The Prince says. “No tricks. No games. I just want to look around, and meet as many people as I can. Maybe even take you up on that tour of your home?”

The kind Mr. Rogers smiles at that one.

“Of course, young man.” Rogers replies. “I would be happy to. But may I ask why?”

Williams looks at the older man, Jeckel’s words playing in his head.

“I want to save you, Sandy. I want to save everyone in Lucid Falls. I know that none of you know what’s going on. But I do.”

“I don’t understand.” Rogers says, confusion on his face. “Save me from what?”

The Prince nods, and places his hand on Sandy’s shoulder.

“A horrible prison.”



It’s a collision course of the past and the future, as IWF’s Terror Squad take on the Legacy of OSW in trios action!

The match quickly breaks down into chaos at the start, with all six competitors going at each other in the ring! The referee eventually restores order as Brooks and Kersh start things off, Tank having the advantage thanks to his size and technical prowess…but Brooks catches him with an elbow!

Tank steps back to recovering, giving Brooks a needed opening as he connects with some hard strikes before tagging in HardKore, who uses his agility to catch Kersh off guard with a headscissors takedown! Kersh gets back to his feet before tagging in Jeckel, who tackles Hayden to the ground!

Jeckel starts pummeling away at HardKore with lefts and rights until Cody runs in to stop it with a kick to the head! Jay falls off Hayden, who gets to his feet as Jay chases Cody out of the ring. Bellator leaps into the ring…INTO THE POWER OF THE SOUTHPAW!

That haymaker caught Sanctus by surprise as he drops to the canvas, and Hayden rolls out of the ring allowing Cody to run in for further damage. Jeckel follows close behind but is cut off by Brooks as Cody picks Bellator up…IMPERTIO! BELLATOR’S GOT THE COVER: ONE! TWO! THREE!

The crafty Terror Squad got outplayed by Legacy tonight, giving Kersh, Bellator, and Jeckel a big win!


Inside the Butchers office, The Butcher sits behind his desk looking over some important paperwork.

When the door bursts open and in walks Lance Norman, Colin immediately stops.

“I wondered how long it’d be before I saw you,” he asks with a grimace. “I’m guessing you’re responsible for what they found in front of Telegon?”

Norman smiles, helping himself to a glass of whisky from a decanter on the table near the door.

“It’s a shame, really,” Lance says sipping his drink. “I liked Mark Gouldern. He had potential.”

“My accountants called. I know about the transfer of ownership.”

Lance stops for a moment, frowning. He walks forward and takes a seat at the desk.

“Then you’ll know why I’m here,” he confirms. “As thirty-nine percent owner of Old School Wrestling, I want to make some changes. For starters, I’m making a couple of matches around here. There’s some dissension in my ranks,” he says as Butcher folks his arms. “So, I’m booking Jimmy Sartyr versus Rain in the Main Event. Then, at Heartbreaker, your precious Luke Storm will defend his OSW Championship against The Monster of the IWF; Rain.”

The Butcher laughs; not a small chuckle, but an absolute roaring bellow.

“You’re a fool,” he grunts. “Mark Gouldern didn’t have any power. His ownership was purely financial. It was the agreement we signed. He financially backed my starting of Old School Wrestling and he took a 39% cut of the profits.”

The IWF Chairman shuffles in his seat.

“But look, you can have your matches,” Butcher confirms. “And it explains why your Monster attacked my Champion earlier tonight. But none of this is what you truly want, is it?”

Norman smiles.

“I want this company closed,” Lance says confidently.

“No, you don’t,” Butcher replies. “You want what I want. You want what Sigil wants. You want what The Skull Order and The Guild want.”

The Butcher stands up and walks over to his decanter, pouring himself a drink.

“The truth is out,” Colin continues. “Both the Guild and The Skull Order want you out of the picture and I’m inclined to agree.”

“So, what do you suggest?” Norman asks.

“At Red Snow, this faction war must end,” The Butcher says, taking a sip of his whiskey. “Therefore, you’ve got your match. We’ll both assemble teams and if you win, Old School Wrestling is over. If I win, you disappear.”

Norman nods in agreement.



This powder keg is just waiting to go off!

While there aren’t normally time-limits in The Slaughterhouse, the clock is ticking down in this one. The winner must escape the C4-packed ring before the blast. Pyre hits a baseball slide and pops up behind Junkrat. He’s in for a rude AWAKENING – dragon sleeper! Pyre tries to put him to sleep quickly, but the Mayor of Gary kicks off from the turnbuckle to pancake her!

The Fire Witch crawls to the ropes, but Junkrat drags her back… THE STEEL TRAP STF! Pyre writhes as time trickles down. Hoping to have incapacitated her, the Scrapyard Scavenger lets go. He heads for the ropes – BUT A WALL OF FIRE ERUPTS IN FRONT OF HIM! He recoils and turns to see the Queen of Flames smirking, with embers in her palms.

“Oh, you wanna play BOOMERS!?” Junkrat asks. Laughing maniacally, he reaches into his pocket and retrieves an EXPLOSIVE! “You know what they say: fight fire with FIRE!” – BUT PYRE KICKS IT OUT OF HIS HAND! She spikes him with a DDT! An air-raid siren wails; time is running out!

Pyre climbs up top and waits for Junkrat to get back to his feet… DANCING FLAMES – CORKSCREW STUNNER! JUNKRAT MOVES AND SHE HITS THE MAT! He goes up high… RIP-TIRE 450 SPLASH! The siren bleeds together into one continuous note – GET OUT OF THERE, JUNKRAT! He darts to the outside and bails into the crowd… BOOOOM! THE C4 EXPLODES! PYRE GOES DOWN IN THE SMOKE AND SPARKS! JUNKRAT WINS!

Junkrat earns an explosive victory!


The train of trucks and trailers pulls to a stop in front of its new home as the moon rises above the clouds. In the lead truck, a giant emerges and is quickly approached by a figure of small stature.

“We’re finally here, boss. Hopefully, this will be the new beginning we need,” the midget states, looking up at the giant.

“This will do for the time being, I suppose. While you’re making some money out here, hopefully I can find someone worth a damn to give me some competition in there,” the big man says, pointing towards the Slaughterhouse.

“Tell everyone to finish setting up, I’ve got some business to attend to.”

The tiny man sprints off towards the other performers as the man know as Punchout makes his way towards the main building. As he’s about to enter the building, a man dressed in a white tank and suspenders cuts him off. Clearly angered, Punchout grabs the man by his shirt and pushes him against the wall.

“Someone needs to teach you some fucking manners,” Punchout yells. The man pinned up against the wall begins to laugh.

“We haven’t been properly introduced chap, the name’s Jac and you should let go of me before I knock you on your arse.”

Punchout returns the smile, realizing this fighter may be worth his time. He lets him go and the two back away slowly.

In the shadows, a young woman gazes at the two brawlers, her eyes giving off a red hue.

“These two are intriguing,” she whisperers, “the anger, the rage, the life force is intoxicating. Perhaps it won’t be so boring here after all.”

The woman smiles and vanishes into the darkness.



It’s a beautiful day in the Slaughterhouse, a beautiful day for a SeeSaw as the neighborly Sandy Rogers takes on Mr. Make Believe himself in Mascot Mayhem…and in a strange twist, we see SeeSaw wearing a Junkrat costume, with Sandy Rogers wearing a matching Marvolo II outfit!

We start things off with SeeSaw asking Sandy to show off one of his friends, and Sandy obliges by pulling Lee out much to Mr. Make Believe’s delight…and SeeSaw responds with an Irish whip on Sandy, sending the friendly neighbor against the ropes before hitting a clothesline on the rebound!

SeeSaw applauds with laughter as Sandy gets back to his feet, putting Lee back to focus on the match at hand. SeeSaw doesn’t look too happy about this, his offense becoming more sinister as he counters the technical prowess of Rogers with increasingly stiff shots to the midsection of Sandy!

Rogers manages to dodge a punch, catching SeeSaw by surprise with a windup punch that sends Mr. Make Believe reeling toward the corner before laying into him with a set of chops across the chest! This only seems to anger SeeSaw, who charges at Rogers…WHO DROPS SEESAW WITH LUCID FALLS!

Rogers sees his opportunity to bring this match to an end, adjusting his mask before pulling Johnathan out and waits for SeeSaw to get back to his feet…TEETER-TOTTER! SEESAW GOT SANDY BY SURPRISE WITH THAT ONE, MANAGING TO PULL THE MARVOLO COSTUME OFF IMMEDIATELY AFTER! THE FUN’S ALL OVER, NOW!

SeeSaw had some fun tonight, but all fun and games came to an end as he picked up a win over Sandy Rogers!


Earlier today…

Sat in his underground lair, Redwing gazes at several large computer screens. Each one is pouring over information related to the Blood Red Shark.

One screen displays his basic information, even if inaccurate:

Name: Alexander Karrs
Alias: Axel, The Sharkman
Born: 1989
Died: 2019
Last Occupation: Teacher (Fuerza Academy)
Previous Occupations: Pro Wrestler, Bus Driver, Camp Counselor

Another screen displays some newspaper clippings, their headlines prominent.

Bus derails, killing 15 children!
Mysterious shark attacks in sewers!
Former wrestler dies in ring!

The last screen displays an analysis of the red haze mist that runs through the Blood Shark’s mask. It blinks red with CANNOT SYNTHESIZE ANTIDOTE.

The Red Knight sighs at that one, his eyes betraying his lack of sleep. He vowed to save the Blood Red Shark from the madness that has taken him, but it’s not going to be as easy as he thought. His computer system, as intricate as the technology provided by Berengar is, is unable to simply undo the tonic that made the Sharkman into the Blood Red Shark.

Moving away the screen showcasing his failure, Redwing turns to face the two showing parts of the Shark’s past. He clicks on the bus driver headline, watching the full story pop up. There are several clips from newscasters covering the story. Each one of them decries the driver for being all manner of messed up. Redwing watches with interest as we get one clip from a courtroom hearing with a young Axel himself.

“I’d give my life so all those kids would live.” He cries out to a bored judge. “I don’t know what happened. I accept full responsibility for my actions, and if I could bring them back, I would.”

The clip goes black as Redwing watches with conviction. He knows he’s the reason why Axel is the way he is now. Unlike those kids on that bus, he can bring the dead back.

Maybe the solution to this problem lays in the past, in just who Alexander Karrs was before he got behind the wheel.

Or maybe he’s diving in the deep water with a shark that smells blood.

But he has to do it.

It’s what Axel would do.


Will The Laughing King force The Prince to bend the knee?

A throne stands between the competitors. The winner must occupy it, whilst forcing his opponent to kneel. Nygma kicks out Jessie’s leg and dives for the throne—but Williams shoves him aside! Nygma jars his tailbone into the plinth… And laughs! The Prince shakes his head and pulls him up. Uppercut! Torpedo dropkick! GROOVY ECLIPSE!

Nygma is down. Wayward Son turns him over and goes to park his butt—leg sweep by The Riddler! A sickening crack is heard as Williams’ head strikes the edge of the seat. Nygma shows no concern—no remorse—cackling as blood pools under Jessie’s skull. Williams slowly comes to, and both men trade blows on their knees…

BOOMSTICK!? Nygma throws himself onto his back—UPPERCUT! JOKE’S ON YOU, BUDDY! The Elk Grove lad is out. Nygma pulls him to his feet and scoops him up – DEATH VALLEY DRIVER! THE ENIGMA THEOREM—WILLIAMS WRIGGLES OUT! He kicks Nyga in the gut… SPINNING GOTCH PILEDRIVER – HAIL TO THE KING!

Cocking his fist, Jessie calls for the end. He stalks Nygma, who climbs to his feet. He aims the Boomstick… BOOOO-YAAAH! NYGMA EVADES THE AIRBORNE GAUNTLET! It strikes the throne, taking a chunk out of it! Jessie curses—AIN’T NO LAUGHING MATTER! Nygma cuts him down with the shining wizard. He heaves him onto his knees and sits on the throne!

The Laughing King cements his reign!


You have been cordially invited to celebrate the marriage between

Miles Jackson

A wedding invitation held in front of the camera slowly burns to cinders in front of our very eyes. It’s intricate lettering and designs slowly falls away to nothing and we are left with smoldering ashes.

The camera pans away from the cinders and towards what appears to be a wedding chapel. We then zoom out, revealing the creater of flames. Pyre.

A smirk appears on her face as fire leaks from her palm towards the chapel.

“What do you think you’re doing?”


The Outlaw looms over Pyre, the Flame Witch turning to face him with a scowl.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Let’s just call it luck that Miles asked me to drop by and check in on the place.”

Pyre narrows her eyes at Bishop as he approaches, the smaller girl backing up and keeping distance.

“Was it luck, or was it something else?”

Bishop chuckles.

“It was cameras spotting you snatching an invitation from Wynonna’s home last week. Now, I’ll ask again, what are you doing here.”

As Bishop closed the distance and pushed Pyre backwards, he unintentionally sent her closer and closer to the chapel. The Fire Witch couldn’t help but chuckle, a hand behind her back as she kept her pace in backing up from Bishop.

“Wouldn’t you like to know that? Let’s just say I have a bit of an investment in this wedding. Not because of the people in it, but I would definitely call it convenient that a wedding popped up when it did. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

Pyre’s hand goes ablaze behind her back and Bishop’s eyes go wide as she throws a fireball that smashes through the doors of the chapel! He lunges at Pyre but she disappears into flames and Bishop hits the ground! He rises to his feet and watches as fire proceeds to spread inside!

The soldier rushes in, smashing the glass on a fire extinguisher’s case and pulling it out, trying his damndest to put out the flames as we fade to black!





Backstage, Alton Whitlock’s phone has just begun to vibrate. He finds this odd. Two hours ago he put it on silent so he could focus on preparing to defend his championship against Redwing.

With everything happening regarding Green and Anonymous, and now what he was hearing about Gouldern… he just needed a minute to clear his head and–



Whitlock sighs in frustration, stands up, and walks across the room to his phone.

When he picks it up, the cold visage of Anonymous stares back at him.

The masked one begins to speak.

“Do you understand what you’ve done, Alton?” he asks in a deep, distorted voice.

“Do you know who you’ve become?”

“What do you see when you look in the mirror?”

“A man? A scar? A coward?”

“Enough with the games,” Whitlock says. “What have you done with Berkshire?”

“Perhaps you should ask yourself the same question,” Anonymous says. “You brought him into this.”

“Where is he!?”

“I’ll show you.”

Anonymous steps aside. Behind him is a dark room, somewhere deep underground. Dripping water echoes in the background. In the middle of the room, there is a strange, dark mass.

A light flickers on–and it reveals the mass to be a towering guillotine made of rusted metal and rotten wood.

Berkshire Ellison Green sits beneath the sickening blade, his bare neck exposed. He’s bound and dressed in rags. His body is bruised and bloody.

“He’s exactly where he belongs,” Anonymous says.

“He’s where you put him, Alton.”

Alton stares at his phone’s screen in disgust and horror.

“And now? Unless you want to be soaked in his blood, you need to save him.”

“What do you want!?” Whitlock growls.

“At Heartbreaker, we write the final chapter,” Anonymous says, reassuming his place in front of the barely-conscious BEG.

“If you win, BEG lives.”

“If you lose, he dies.”

“Can you save him, Alton?”

“How could you, when you can’t even save yourself?”

Abruptly, Anonymous’s video feed cuts out. The screen goes dark.

Whitlock throws his phone in fury. It cracks against the concrete floor.



Four competitors, one fall to the finish. The OSW Champion with a big target on his back with sporting merit up for grabs. Can Sigil and Sweet Alice avoid tearing the fabric of reality apart in their simmering feud?

Sweet Alice charges Sigil and catches him by surprise…HEADSCISSORS TAKEDOWN! The Planeswalker rolls out of the ring. Sweet Alice follows up with a flying double axe handle from the ring apron. Inside the ring Storm and Straight are slugging it out. Storm swings a haymaker but Straight ducks and..BOOM! Straight dumps Storm with a German suplex.

Outside Sigil has turned the tables and Sweet Alice is launched first into the crowd barriers, then face first into a ring post. The Dreamer thuds off the metal and is nailed…FINITE! ROUNDHOUSE KICK FROM SIGIL! Inside the ring Storm is all over The Dealmaker, stomping a mudhole in him at a turnbuckle. Sigil tries to attack the Champion but Storm scouts it, ducks and jolts The Planeswalker…LIGHTNING STRIKE!


Sweet Alice stalks Sigil, she’s hopping around like a bunny…TERRIBLY LATE! Sigil heaves in agony. What next? TEA PARTY! LOCKED IN! Sigil is on the brink…HE TELEPORTS! Sweet Alice gets to her feet and she’s caught by surprise…PLANESWALKER! THE FLYING DROPKICK FLOORS THE DREAMER! Sigil makes the cover as Straight and Storm have taken their fight to the outside. ONE…TWO…THREE!

Sigil ensures there are only nightmares for Sweet Alice this evening.


Tank Kersh walks with the kind of purpose that makes others move the hell out of the way.

As he turns the corridor, he sees the person he’s looking for.

“Hey, Michaela, wait up.”

Michaela Lane, her gym bag over her shoulder, stops in her tracks and turns to see Tank approaching her.

“What’s up?”

Tank looks Michaela in the eye. “It’s about the old man.”

Michaela rolls her eyes, shrugs. “What about him?”

Tank sighs. “You know the only difference in your father and mine is yours knew when to leave well enough alone.”

Michaela says nothing, because there’s nothing to say.

Kersh continues, “It was always going to come to this, you know.”

“No,” Michaela says. “I won’t do it.”

“Won’t do what?” Kersh asks.

This time it’s Michaela who sighs. “I won’t fight him. I know you and Brent don’t have the best relationship, and I’m sorry for that, but the man is like a second father to me. He means nearly as much to me as my own dad, and I can’t — I won’t — fight him.”

Tank inhales sharply, nods. “If he really means that much to you, then you know just how important it is for him to leave OSW for good.”

Michaela shakes her head, looks away.

Tank grabs her shoulder. “If you won’t fight him, at least try and talk some sense into him. Please?”

Michaela looks Tank in the eyes. No matter how much he tries to hide it, there’s love for his father in those pupils.

“Alright,” she says. “I’ll talk to him. But we both know it won’t do any good.”

“It has to,” Tank says.

“It has to,” he repeats.



The Candidate defends his Double Feature Championship belt against OSW’s Watchful Protector. In his eyes each views himself as purveyor of good but will justice reign tonight?

Redwing takes control, sharp jabs to the face of Whitlock, backing The Candidate on to the ropes. Irish whip into the opposite ropes, shoulder charge takedown by Redwing. Whitlock thrown into a corner, Crimson Justice works The Candidate’s body with a series of powerful, well placed punches. Irish whip to the opposite corner, Redwing charges but he hits the turnbuckle as Whitlock evades his attack. Belly to belly suplex from Whitlock shifts the early momentum.

Whitlock follows up with a jumping lariat and cover. ONE…TWO…THR-NO! Redwing kicks out. Whitlock lifts Redwing up, raising him on his shoulders…SNAP ELECTION INCOMING! NO! Redwing is punching the top of Whitlock’s head, drops to the mat then runs The Candidate into the corner…THE KILLING JOKE! Cover for a new champion…ONE…TWO…THR-NO! Shoulder up!

Redwing stalks Whitlock who is on his hands and knees. Are we about to see DARKNESS FALLS? NO! The Candidate rolls out of the ring. Redwing off the ropes, baseball slide to Whitlock on the outside, he flies into the crowd barriers. The Watchful Protector has his foe back in the ring quickly. Redwing has his man tied up, attempt at GODWATCH! Alton rolls out of the ripcord and counters…PARTY POLITICS! ONE…TWO…THR-NO! Redwing saves himself!

Whitlock is in control, he’s looking to set-up for BETTER WORLD…COUNTER! Redwing slides out, sleeper hold, transition into double underhook headlock…RETURN TO ARKHAM! ONE…TWO…THREE…NO! Whitlock kicks out at the last! Redwing sizing up his victim now…DARKNESS FALLS! IS THIS IT? COUNTER INTO A SPINEBUSTER! The Candidate has control and this time he gets what he’s striving for…BETTER WORLD! Redwing buckles under the Vertebreaker. ONE…TWO…THREE!

The Candidate retains the Double Feature but he’s pushed all the way by a resurgent Redwing!


It’s moments before the Main Event and Jimmy Sartyr has stepped into the makeshift locker room of the Internet Wrestling Federation.

Only those inside, barely share a look in his direction.

Anna Goodchild, Cowboy Jim Jenkins, Rick Plant, Cooter Hayes and Bernie McCallister refuse to acknowledge him.

He carefully walks over to Lance Norman.

“A frosty reception, it seems,” he says quizzically. “Have I done something wrong?”

Lance stands up, putting an arm around him.

The discomfort on Jimmy’s face is clear.

“There’s rumours of discontent, certainly. We’ve been led to believe that you may be a turncoat.”

Sartyr stops.

“What?” He offers clearly. “That’s not the case, Norman. Look, I don’t like you very much but I believe in what we’re trying to achieve here. Putting me in a match with Rain doesn’t benefit us.”

“You could be right, but everyone in this room needs to understand what it means to even consider betrayal,” Lance continues. “You’re going to be the message we send to the rest of our roster.”

Sartyr shrugs his arm off and walks towards the door.

“I don’t have a problem fighting Rain,” he loudly states, getting everyone’s attention. “But this isn’t the IWF and you don’t rule with an iron fist, Lance.”
The former IWF Chairman grins.

“And the rest you had better watch this match. Whatever happens, if this is the kind of thing we can come to expect, how’re we going to win this war?”

Sartyr exits the room, leaving everyone to talk amongst themselves.

Lance puts his hands-on hips.

Has he made the right call?


Underground, Voynich is leading Sigil down a tunnel he found.

“Where are we going, Voynich?”

“Well, let’s say I found something a bit different down this tunnel. It won’t lead to an artifact but it does lead to someone who might help us locate the tablet.”

“Lead the way.”

About a hundred feet behind them are Cody Williams, Hayden Hardkore, and Tyler Brooks.

Terror Squad has been stealthily following them since they entered the tunnel.

Cody speaks.

“Who do you think they’re talking about?”

Tyler replies.

“Someone they find through a tunnel? I have no idea but whoever it is, we’re talking to them next.”

Sigil and Voynich keep walking not hearing a thing.

They arrive at a dusty wooden door.

“Are you sure this is the place?”

Voynich wipes the dust off and the door reads:


“Studio infinity? Yeah, this is the place.”

Voynich opens the door to bright lights and a loud announcement!

“Welcome to the show that”

Voynich and Sigil shut the door behind them.

Terror Squad talk to each other.

“Monty Straight?”

“Makes sense, the demon who has his hands on everything, makes sense he knows where the tablet would be.”

“We might want to let them talk. If Monty makes them take a bad deal, we might not have to worry about them or the tablet at all.”

H”If they don’t make a bad deal?”

Hayden asks.

Cody speaks up.

“I’ll make them wish they did.”



Old rivalled wounds open up tonight as Jimmy Sartyr fights against his worst nightmare. Can Sartyr best his demons once and for all or will Rain finish what he started all those years ago?

“A City On Fire’ plays throughout the arena to a mixed reaction as Jimmy Sartyr walks out with a pensive look in his eyes. None of the usual swagger in his walk, Sartyr heads slowly down to the ring like a convict walking down death row, staring at the tall cage with a visible gulp in his throat before he climbs up the steps and very reluctantly steps inside the iron prison.

The lights dim to darkness as ‘Blackened the Sun’ by Tech N9ne begins to play, Jimmy Sartyr swallowing hard as he stares at the entrance, waiting for the Soul Taker to walk out into the light…but he never does. What feels like minutes pass, the lights come back on to an empty ramp, the music fading to the chrous as the lights go pitch black once more. Flickering to light again


Sartyr turns around, SOUL PUNCH!


Jimmy Sartyr stumbles to his feet, holding his chest in pain from that massive heart punch as Rain begins to unload with lefts and rights, each blow nearly buckling Sartyr with sheer force. A huge knee to the gut lifts him up high up off the mat before a massive Lariat nearly decapitates the Innovator of Offense. Jimmy is pulled up to his feet, uppercutted with such force that it had to at least chip a few teeth before Rain grabs him by the back of the head


Jimmy lands hard with a damn splat against the steel, the mesh hitting with such force it leaves an impression against his skin as Jimmy staggers away right into a pair of hands around his throat as Rain looks to throw him into the other side but Jimmy manages to slip out, leaping up high


The Dropkick hits flush as Rain staggers back a few paces, enough for Jimmy to instantly get the chance on offense, flying at the Soul Taker with everything he’s got. Rights, lefts, knees, elbows but they all barely do a thing to the monster who stops Jimmy once more with a thunderous headbutt that takes all the fight out of Sartyr once more, grabbing him around the throat with both hands.


Sartyr counters the Choke Toss once more, slipping down Rain’s back as he holds both legs for the cover



Rain sits up right into a hard running dropkick from Jimmy that’s not going to keep Rain down for long but Jimmy rolls through, leaping up to the ropes,




The Swanton hits hard but as soon as Sartyr gets to his feet, Rain sits up once more like Sartyr did nothing at all. Another running dropkick attempt is swatted away as that iron grip of the Soul Taker is clamped upon Sartyr’s throat once more, and unlike the first two times, Jimmy can’t escape the trifecta


Sartyr is thrown across the ring right into the steel mesh once more, a cut opening up on his forehead as the sheer force buckled the cage wall, damn near breaking it in the process. Sartyr stumbles out from the wall, eyes glazed over right into that deadly grip of Rain once more as he’s lifted up high


The Chokeslam nearly implants Jimmy through the mat, Rain dropping down for the cover as this has to be it







The crowd begin to clap hard, cheering for Sartyr as Jimmy’s heart refuses to die just yet but he’s hurting and Rain knows it. Pulling Jimmy to his feet, a pair of knees nearly crack ribs from impact before the Soul Taker goes for the Choke Toss once more, throwing him high in the air


Sartyr steadies himself as Rain turns around


Rain is down for the moment, Jimmy not wasting any time as he climbs the turnbuckles once more, grabbing Rain by the back of the head as the Soul Taker slowly rises


This could it, can Jimmy Sartyr do what he couldn’t in the IWF? Jimmy hooks both legs, pulling back with all his strength






That may have been Jimmy’s best chance to win this contest as he crashes back down into the iron grip of Rain once more, the Soul Taker gets to his feet before lifting Sartyr high up into the air

TO DUST! Another Chokeslam but Rain doesn’t let go, pulling Jimmy up once more

TO DUST! A third Chokeslam nearly snaps Jimmy in half, Rain stepping back as Sartyr still struggles to his feet, crawling on the canvas before pulling himself up on the Soul Taker. Barely concious and only adrenaline keeping him in this fight, even Rain is reluctant to continue the punishment


Sartyr paintbrushes Rain as hard as he can, the cold, darkened eyes narrowing on Sartyr as a massive headbutt snaps forward, drilling Jimmy before he’s lifted up high into the air in a Suplex





This has to be it, Rain dropping down as he plants all his body weight onto Jimmy Sartyr for the emphatic cover







The Soul Taker decimates Jimmy Sartyr here tonight but the former soul of the IWF took everything Rain had to give him and more in a brutal war.


In the middle of a secret location, men walk around in builder’s visibility vests and hard hats.

There’s construction afoot.

Meanwhile, sat on the floor watching, utterly dejected and sad, is none other than SeeSaw.

Mr. Make Believe just doesn’t look happy.

D’Ville soon approaches.

“Don’t worry son,” he says, sitting next to him. “It’ll be as good as new, I promise.”

“That mean old Eddie didn’t just destroy my toy box, daddy,” SeeSaw says sadly. “He said that he’s gonna talk to me about you. What does he mean?”

D’Ville pauses for a moment, not speaking.

His contemplation ends when he realizes how long SeeSaw has been looking at him.

“He’s just trying to divide and conquer us,” he says unconvincingly. “But don’t you worry about that. We won’t let him, will we?”

SeeSaw shakes his head enthusiastically.

The Doc gets up and walks away, pulling out his cell phone.

He dials.

And guess who picks up?


“What do you know and how do you know it?” He asks, pressing a button to put the phone on speaker.

“I managed to peruse your files before your office went up in flames,” Nygma replies with a chuckle. “There’s some mightily interesting information there, huh?”

“What’s it gonna take for you to leave us alone?” D’Ville asks carefully.

“Leave you alone!?” The Laughing Man bellows. “You kidnapped me, silly. Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“You know what I wanted,” D’Ville responds.

“Don’t you think he deserves to know?” TLM questions with a chuckle. “I do. I think he deserves to know the truth.”

“Please, don’t…”